Howdya Wintah?

Wintering as a verb and why it matters

I’ve just learned that the people in midcoast Maine have a delightful way of greeting each other in the spring after the world has thawed. They don’t just say, How are you doing? or What’s new with you? or Is your family well? Instead, they get straight to it and ask, “Howdya wintah?”

[For my out-of-state friends, that translates to, “How did you winter?”]

I love the question, because it implies so much:

• It implies that yes, winter is hard.

• It implies that you’ve reached the other side, in spite of that hardship.

• And it implies that winter is not just a noun, but actually a verb—something that can be done.

See, winter, when used as a noun, is just a season where it gets cold and everything looks dead.¹ It descends, we hunker. We pray it will pass quickly and that Punxsutawney [who came up with that name?] Phil won’t see his shadow. And when it finally lifts, we breathe a sigh of relief. It is something that is done to us—we don’t really have much say in the matter.

But if we use winter as a verb, then it’s something that we can do, and if we can do it, we can make the choice to do it well. That means we have some agency over what happens to us in the winter! We aren’t victims to our cold and bleak surroundings. We can make the choice to tackle winter before it tackles us.

I know it’s not quite time to start asking each other “Howdya wintah?” We’re right in the thick of it. The luster of the holidays has been snuffed out, we’ve likely tired of our New Year resolutions and have resigned ourselves to a “New Year, Same Me,” mentality, and we are forced inward by long nights and blustery weather.

But ooooooooh. Something about that sounds delicious too, don’t you think? It suggests a shift in schedule, in mindset, and in speed. I just finished reading Wintering by Katherine May, and oh man oh man oh MAN I relished every bit. It’s about the power of rest and retreat in life’s difficult and isolating seasons. And it, too, circulated around this theme of wintering as a verb—something that we get to do, with intentionality.

We aren’t victims to our cold and bleak surroundings. We can make the choice to tackle winter before it tackles us.

It makes me wonder—how can I do winter differently this year, knowing that it’s something I have some control over? To be honest, I’ve been floundering a little lately. I’ve been unmotivated in my work and even more unmotivated to wear real pants. I’ve felt a a little closed in, as if by 3 PM the day is over and I should resign myself to staying in and waiting for the deep dark.

But it hasn’t been without high notes, including:

• Reading/listening to [and completing] a handful of amazing books²

• Making homemade bread [if you’ve got a good bread recipe for toast, hit your girl up!]

• Meeting friends for coffee and drinking whole-milk cappuccinos

• Trying contrast therapy

• Painting our bedroom a deep forest green and going for the Country Club Grandpa aesthetic [If you haven’t heard of this trend, Google it. We’re just joining the bandwagon of other people who want to sink into a leather armchair in a sensual room with moody vibes.]

I’m inspired, now, to think about what else I’ll add to the list before April or so. I’m thinking:

• A work day on the ski slopes, where I can brainstorm on the chairlift and scrawl notes in the lodge

• Getting some friends together for fika

• Some big, Sunday afternoon lunches

• More morning soaks in the hot tub

When the last patch of snow disappears and the robins pull worms out of our lawn, I want to be able to answer the question, “Howdya wintah?” not with slumped shoulders and a long whistle, but with a grin and a triumphant, “Wicked good.”

What about you? What’s on your list? Please share—I love to hear!

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P.S. Some of my words about why we should bother with beauty were published on the Truly Co. blog this week. I think it’s timely, right here in the middle of winter!

1. I recognize this is not necessarily true if you are living in a southern clime. All I can say about that is—I’m exceedingly jealous of you. Invite me for a visit?

2. This month, I’ve read Wintering, mentioned above. I’ve also read Lifesigns by Henri Nouwen and listened to Dopamine Nation by Dr. Anna Lembke. All of them are thought-provoking, life-giving, and will make you a better conversationalist at parties.